


Forget-Me-Nots

by ubbs_mcbubbs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Man dies, Other, Short Story, aph nordics - Freeform, bruh, enjoy I suppose babes, tw sweden dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubbs_mcbubbs/pseuds/ubbs_mcbubbs
Summary: Bitches Die
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Forget-Me-Nots

He lay against a silver birch. It’s leaves fell rhythmically, resting in an ever growing pool of blood. His breathing proved shaky, it hurt to breath but he forced every breath. His hand clutching his throbbing wound. By god, he wasn't going to die here, not alone.

The blood around his mouth and nose dried, his eyes began to get heavy tears formed in his eyes. His biggest fear has always been dying alone and this was as alone as possible. Deep in the woods bleeding out. He wanted to keep hope, that anyone could find him, save him or even just hold his hand while he faded but… He knew. He knew no one would find him, alive at least. The throbbing seemed less painful now, instead his chest ached, it ached like it did when Tino left, it ached like it did when Sigurd left. The air now thick with loneliness and death. It smelled sweet. Like wildflowers and pine sap. 

He let out a sob, a pure genuine sob, he clutched his wound tightly. If his left arm still moved he would hide his face. He’s alone, sure but he’s still embarrassed. His face is bright red, drooling, wailing, his bottom lip shook. He hated it but he couldn’t stop, it hurt. It hurt like hell, his heart, his wound, his whole body hurt. His chest rattled, every breath came with an echo, a baited shakey echo. He couldn’t stop crying. He needed to stop crying. He needed to… But the fact he’s alone, as alone as he possibly could be. The smell got thicker, the sweet, sweet smell turned into a taste, the taste shifted to copper, it lingered in his mouth. It tasted of death. A reminder that he’s dying,a reminder that he’s alone, a reminder that they’ll probably never find him. A reminder he’ll never be able to apologize to Tino. 

The sun shifted no longer in his eyes, instead it reflected on the pool around him, despite this the world still seemed blinding. He is exhausted, tears still dripped down his sore, red cheeks. His whole body ached, his heart and head throbbed. His limbs felt cold. Cold against his own blood. Cold against his own flesh… it scared him, it all scared him, this isn’t how he imagined how he’d go out. Not alone. He’d always dreamed he’d be bed bound surrounded by everyone, warm, comfortable… Thinking about it now made him feel sick to his stomach, even more so thinking about everyone else, he can’t help but think, think about how unaware they are. Would they even care? Would they hold him? His mind raced. Nothing out of the ordinary. The wind picked up slightly. The wildflowers smelled sweeter than usual.

The trädgårdsförgätmigej in the air calmed him, despite everything, despite the blood, despite the pain he found himself at peace. He rested the back of his head on the tree behind him, closing his eyes, feeling the wind, the grass beneath him, his body felt loose. So many years of tense shoulders, backs and stares he properly felt unbound. the hand on his wound began slipping off his body. He felt tired now. Not exhausted anymore but tired, for once he felt like letting go, letting go of it all. His heart still ached, but he knew it would be for the best. He’d never been sure in most things but this, He was positive.

Let his body lay here for hours, days, weeks, months or years. Lifeless. Unmoving. Let his from rot and give back to his land, his land he’s taken so much from. Let the others find what’s left of him, as he was, as he will be. His only hope is that whatever is left of him, whatever remains of his flesh and bones that something beautiful grows there, tiny blue clusters of petals, trädgårdsförgätmigej… Forget-me-nots.


End file.
